


river running free (you know how i feel?)

by ImagineYourself



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineYourself/pseuds/ImagineYourself
Summary: AU where soulmates can read each other’s minds. But Wade’s mind can’t be read, and he thinks that Spidey’s voice is just another personality in his head that he can’t interact with directly. Cue Peter thinking he’ll never find his soulmate, Wade wishing he was Spidey’s soulmate, identity reveals, and much needed conversations.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 530
Collections: Marvel





	river running free (you know how i feel?)

You can never truly understand someone else. Perhaps you can never truly understand yourself either. The closest we can get is having our minds be open, all our secrets revealed to the one person who is supposed to accept you no matter what. Your soulmate.

Growing up, Peter often witnessed the silent conversations his aunt and uncle would have. Even if they weren’t looking at each other, Peter could always tell by the little changes in their expressions. May would be doing the dishes and from across the room he would hear Ben chuckling to himself, eyes unfocused from the newspaper forgotten before him.

Sometimes Peter felt jealous. He was being left out of some conversation they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, have in front of him. Not that they didn’t speak to each other as well. Arguments or hushed whispers. The customary “I love you” when one left the house. The “welcome home” in the evenings.

But in the end, Peter knew that he would have that with someone, someday.

Then Peter went to high school. Then he turned sixteen. Then he turned seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. He had a fling here and there with a couple of people who had yet to find their soulmates, too.

Now he was twenty-four, soulmate-less, and disillusioned with the whole business.

All the places he’d been, around the world with the Avengers, he’d never found his soulmate. All he had was his suit, his never-ending repertoire of quips, and his aunt reassuring him every Sunday night dinner that he would find her (or him) eventually.

“You know, sometimes it takes people until they’re old and gray to find their soulmates,” she would say. “The universe has its way of making things happen.” “Be patient, Peter, and you’ll be surprised when it does happen.”

“Any day now,” Peter would tell himself when it got a little too empty in his head. It was like his mind knew he was waiting for someone. Or perhaps that was simply his hopelessness leaving a raw and aching hole inside of him.

The only relief he could find sometimes was with the most unlikely person he could ever have imagined: Deadpool. Something about that beautiful idiot made Peter feel relaxed whenever they were near each other. His Spidey sense had become attuned to Deadpool in such a way that he could almost _feel_ him when they were nearby, even if they weren’t in the same room or building.

Of course, he would never say that to anyone, especially Deadpool himself.

Speaking of that devil, Peter had that little tingle in the back of his head a few seconds before Deadpool fell onto the roof of the restaurant they had chosen to meet at that night.

Deadpool, ever the fool, tripped on his landing from grappling his way over and slipped right onto his face, groaning. After a moment or two he called out, “Hey Spidey.”

Holding back laughter, Peter went over to him and held out a hand to help pull him to his feet.

“Oof, thanks for that,” Deadpool muttered, rubbing his head with his hands. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Peter smiled beneath his mask. “I’m not.” _Dumbass_ , he thought.

“No not you,” Deadpool looked away and straightened. “Alright, baby boy, shall we?”

 _I hate when he calls me that_ , Peter thought fondly. “Let’s shall.”

“Nah, you love it.”

Peter shook his head, knowing Deadpool was likely talking to one of the voices in his head. Together, they hopped into the alley behind the building and took a side door inside. As they walked through the kitchen, greeting the familiar faces, Peter considered what he wanted to order.

 _Tacos?_ No. _Quesadilla?_ Hm, nah. _Oh! Flautas!_ Hell yes. Deadpool was already chatting with Marcos, the head chef, in fluent Spanish. Peter could only pick up a few words here and there, but he could tell the two were just catching up.

Deadpool glanced back at him. “You want the usual?”

“Flautas for me today, thanks.” Moseying over, Peter rested his elbow on Deadpool’s shoulder. It was actually sort of uncomfortable considering the man was several inches taller than him, but he wanted to look cool.

“Knew it,” Deadpool said under his breath and proceeded to relay their order to the chef who motioned for them to take a seat at a nearby table.

Gratefully, they both lounged, the upbeat tune of a Spanish rap playing the background. Deadpool was blathering on about something while Peter thought to himself. _I don’t usually listen to this kind of music but it’s nice._ He reminisced about running through the street of the city, music filtering in and out from cars he passed or people’s headphones.

When he was out on the town he never listened to music of his own, needing to hear what was going on around him. His only exception was J. Jonah Jameson’s regular talk show. Despite the untruths the man spread about Spider-Man, he was an interesting character to keep up with.

He tuned back into what Deadpool was saying when he mentioned something about JJJ himself.

“Wait, what did you just say?” Peter asked quickly, interrupting.

Deadpool tripped up and tilted his head. “About the half-Mexican rapper woman or the proper way to load a taco?”

“No, about J. Jonah.”

Squinting, Deadpool said, “Uh. Just agreeing with one of the boxes.”

“Oh.” _That’s strange._ Peter shook his head briefly then said, “Tell me more about the rapper.”

“Dude, Spidey, she’s so cool. There’s this—”

He cut off as their food was delivered to the table, requiring two waiters to unload all the plates. It looked amazing, smelled even better. Enchiladas, tacos, burritos, and the fated flautas.

Even as he tore into the hot food, Peter thought, _How is he not the size of a truck with how much he eats?_ Deadpool glanced at him but Peter was too busy pondering the enormous energy he would need to metabolize because of the constant regeneration his body was going through just to keep him alive.

Deadpool snickered to himself but when Peter looked over, he only saw the man with a mouth full of burrito.

-

A few days later, with three would-be robbers in the back of police cars, one old woman safely across the street, and seven thugs in various states of pain webbed to walls in an alley, the two masked men soaked up the moonlight from a bench in Central Park.

Peter’s mind was occupied with thoughts about the conversation he’d had with May the previous night at their weekly dinner. He didn’t know how she put up with him every week, always lamenting about not finding his soulmate. That, and hedging around his activities as Spider-Man.

She knew about his hero persona, but he tried to keep her out of the loop as much as possible, not wanting her to worry over him all the time. If he had said anything about a couple of his ribs which were still cracked during dinner from a fight on his way over, he knew she would have fussed over him.

 _She’s too good to me_ , he thought, _even after her soulmate. . . She never blamed me for Ben._

Deadpool’s voice broke him from his thoughts with a start. “Hey, Spidey, do you have a soulmate?”

“What?” Peter turned to him with no small amount of shock. “Where did that come from?”

“Just, uh, just wondering,” he said softly. Shrugging, he added, “You don’t have to tell me. Sorry.”

Forcibly relaxing his shoulders, Peter took a breath. “No. I don’t—have one.” _Not for lack of trying to find them._ A beat passed silently. _I wonder if he. . . No, that would be rude to ask._

Before he could say anything, Deadpool said, “Me neither. I—I mean I don’t have one.”

 _Poor guy_ , Peter couldn’t help but think. _He deserves someone._ ”

“No, I don’t.”

Peter took the mumbled comment in stride. “Do you think you will ever—y’know—find them?”

Deadpool laughed. “It doesn’t really matter at this point.”

 _That’s sad._ Peter pursed his lips, thinking to himself. _I think I get it, though. Sometimes I feel like giving up._

-

[You don’t think. . .]

{No way. We’ve talked about this before.}

[But now we know he doesn’t already have one. That’s confirmed.]

_Shut up, I’m trying to have a conversation here._

[Oh boo hoo.]

_“That’s sad. I think I get it, though. Sometimes I feel like giving up.”_

{Damn. He’s right. It’s so sad.}

[What a sad and pathetic existence]

Aloud, Wade said, “You’re still young, yeah?”

“I guess.” Spider-Man shrugged.

Looking at him, Wade was only reminded of how much he ached. He wanted to wrap the kid up in a big blanket and watch shitty action movies until they fell asleep. When they woke, he wanted to make coffee and eggs and pamper him until the kid was sick of it.

[Hopefully he won’t get sick of it.]

{You say that like we have a chance.}

_“Now I just want to go home and wallow in ice cream.”_

Spider-Man looked like he was about to say something when Wade spoke up first. “Wanna come over and play Mario Kart?” he asked, trying for an excited tone. “I have ice cream.”

If he could see Spidey’s face, he would have sworn the kid was wearing a puzzled expression. What? Everyone likes ice cream. Just because the Spidey in his head said that he wanted ice cream didn’t mean that the real Spidey wanted ice cream, but it was still on offer!

_“This is way too weird. Coincidences aren’t this common.”_

Wade didn’t know what that meant, but thankfully the actual Spider-Man nodded and said, “Sure, why not.”

{This could be interesting.}

Spidey, damn his reflexes, got first place in every race. At least Wade managed to smear ice cream on that damn arachnid’s mask as revenge.

-

{I’m suspicious.}

[What? Why?]

“Enlighten the class.”

{Well, it’s just—it seems like the Spidey in here is connected to the Spidey out there.}

[They have the same voice?]

{Stupid, I mean real Spidey reacts when we mention something about what voice Spidey says.}

“And we only hear voice Spidey when we’re around real Spidey,” Wade pondered. He tapped his chin and frowned. “Are you implying—?”

[WE CAN READ SPIDEY’S THOUGHTS.]

“Woah, woah, woah.”

{And you know what that means.}

“No! No way.” Petulantly, Wade crossed his arms and turned away.

[Soulmates. . .]

“But he can’t read our mind! Otherwise I’m totally sure we would have known by now.”

{I’ll give you that.}

[Maybe our mind can’t be read?]

Wade huffed. “Maybe because there are too many voices!”

[Hey. I love you, man.]

{Oh, shut up.}

Giggling, Wade looked around. He was near the Avengers’ tower, waiting for Spider-Man to finish up whatever business he had with, apparently, Black Widow.

{Espionage?}

[Spying?]

{Dinner date?}

“Ew, no.”

[Definitely not.]

{Security?}

“It doesn’t matter, guys!”

_“Finally, I’m free. That woman needs to learn some better social skills.”_

{He’s coming.}

[Places everybody!]

{Act natural.}

Wade glanced around, but there was nothing for him to lean against sexily or sit and look pretty. “Aw, shit.”

 _“I hope he’s still there.”_ Spidey’s voice filtered through the other noise in his head.

Somewhat awkwardly, Wade decided to kneel, trying to look relaxed like he was surveying the city.

[Nice.]

Moments later, Spider-Man landed lightly on his toes next to where he was kneeling. “Sup?”

“Hey—” Wade’s voice came out too high; he cleared his throat and tried again in his normal voice. “Hey, Spidey. How was the meeting?”

 _“Boring,”_ voice Spidey said.

“It was fine,” real Spidey said.

“Boring?” Wade questioned, his tone off.

Spidey didn’t even blink. “Yeah.” He paused and stretched his arms above his head. Wade got the feeling he was uncomfortable about something. “So, uh—”

Quickly, Wade stood, and said, “Think of a number between one and ten.”

“What? Okay.”

_“Seven.”_

“Seven.”

Spidey turned to him. “Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“Think of a different number. Any number.” Wade took a small step toward him.

“Deadpool, why are you asking me this?” Spidey laughed nervously. “ _This is so weird. Whatever, I’ll play along. Uh, fifty-four.”_

“Fifty-four!” Wade said excitedly.

“You’re starting to freak me out.” Spidey took a step back.

Making up for the space and taking one step forward, Wade blurted, “Spidey, I think I might be your soulmate.”

{Facepalm.}

[WHAT?]

{Absolute failure.}

Wade waved his hands. “I mean—I didn’t—that came out wrong!”

[Foot in mouth syndrome.]

Staring at him, expressionless as far as Wade could tell, Spidey thought, _“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my GOD!”_

“Deadpool, that’s—”

“I know it sounds weird!” Wade interrupted. “But I can hear what you’re thinking. I thought it was just another voice in my head. It only happens when you’re close by, though.”

_“He can read my mind. He could hear everything. Everything bad I ever thought about him. Oh God, he can hear me right now.”_

“No, no, no,” Wade put his hands on Spidey’s shoulders. “It’s okay! I’m not mad!”

_“Shit. I have to go. I have to go NOW!”_

“Please don’t go. Wait, Spidey, please.”

Spidey was shaking under his hands. “But how—?”

The Spidey in his head was still screaming so Wade did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms around him and held the kid’s head to his chest. Slowing his breathing, Wade tried to get Spidey to calm down and rubbed steady circles on his back.

[That went well.]

“It’s okay. It’s cool.”

{I guess it’s not all that cool from his point of view.}

[Suddenly learning that a guy you kind of don’t like can hear your thoughts.]

Wade spoke softly, “Just chillax, Spidey.”

 _“Peter,”_ he heard.

 _“My name is—_ Peter,” Spidey finished out loud.

“Peter,” Wade whispered. “Peter. Peter.”

{Pumpkin eater.}

[Rolls off the tongue.]

{I could think of a better use.}

[For a pumpkin?]

{No for a—oh whatever!}

-

Peter slowly backed out of Deadpool’s embrace. _I have a soulmate._ _Wait—_

“But I can’t hear your thoughts. I’ve never been able to.” Peter felt his heart sink.

“I know, I think.” Deadpool muttered to himself something unintelligible then said, “It’s a good thing.”

“Why?” Peter frowned deeply. He should be able to hear. Everybody says they can hear each other, not just one way.

“Well, let’s just say it’s not only me in my head. There are a couple of others—other voices.”

“Oh.”

“If you heard them, too, well. . . I don’t think that would be a good idea. They’re not exactly the best parts of me.” Deadpool shrugged as if sheepish.

Peter still felt a bit forlorn. His expectations were. . . not panning out in this whole soulmate thing.

Deadpool looked away, saying quietly, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not good enough—”

_No, no! Shit. Um—_

He floundered for words. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I meant it. No, sorry.” Peter tried to calm his flayed nerves for a moment. “It’s not bad,” he finally managed to spit out. “Just different.” He laughed. “This is not what I was expecting tonight.”

Peter took a step back and rubbed his face pensively. _Okay, Parker, cool it. Things you know: 1) you have a soulmate, 2) that soulmate is Deadpool. What about 3? There is no three._

Spinning to look at him again, Peter asked, “What’s your name?”

“Wade Wilson, sir.”

_Wade. Your soulmate is Wade. And he’s. . . a big hunky dude?_

Before it was quickly choked off, Peter heard a strangled laugh.

 _3) He’s an idiot._ Peter gasped suddenly and turned away, blushing fiercely. _I have to show him my face. And I’ll see his. And—_

“Hold on there, partner.” Wade’s voice had him whirled around again he almost got whiplash. “Names. We got names. Faces. That’s a big—uh—a big—?”

_Dick._

“Step! A big step,” Wade finished lamely.

_Oh fuck no. He heard that. I’m thinking about his dick. No! No, I am not! Stop thinking about that. Think of literally anything else!_

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Peter gushed, the words almost inseparable.

Suddenly, Wade laughed. Loud and bellyaching. Peter could not help but join in, laughing at the absurdity of their situation.

“I think,” Wade started, laughter dying down, “maybe we should go to my place?”

_His place._

“To talk! Just to talk!” Flapping his hands, Wade added, “No ulterior motives or anything.”

“Right, of course,” Peter agreed, too readily. “Um. Can I meet you there? I, uh, kind of want a few minutes,” he paused to clear his throat,” alone.”

Immediately, Wade started walking backwards. “Yes, sir, good plan, sir. See you soon, uh, sir.”

_Stop saying “sir”._

“At once, sir. Shit.” Wade dropped off the edge of the roof with a cry as Peter dropped his head in his hands.

He sat down, knees curled up, and sighed heavily. He tried to reign in his thoughts until he felt like Wade was out of range. Boy, that tingling made a lot more sense now.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled aloud. Internally, he was attempting to keep his own hands away from the panic button.

_Wade. Wade Wilson. Oh my God this is the worst thing to ever happen to me. No. Parker, calm down. It’s fine. Totally fine._

_It’s okay if it’s not fine._

_I’m soulmates with an insane, violent, stupid, sweet, absolute dumbass guy named Wade. This is no longer about Spider-Man and Deadpool. Just Peter and Wade._

He took a deep, calming breath. _Think about this rationally. I do actually kind of maybe like the guy. Sort of. Argh! Nothing makes sense. Nothing makes sense!_

With an irritated grunt, Peter stood and took a running leap off the roof, catching himself with webs just in time to avoid splattering on the pavement. This would do him some good. A little swinging through the city in the cool night air would clear his mind right up.

By the time he reached Wade’s apartment and the tingle let him know Wade was already there, he felt a bit more levelheaded about the whole thing.

Then he went inside.

Wade was pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself—probably to those voices he mentioned—until he abruptly stopped and looked up.

Something struck Peter as odd, but he didn’t realize what it was until Wade blinked at him.

“You’re not wearing your mask,” Peter whispered. Wide eyed, he closed the distance between them. “Oh, wow.” When he reached out a hand, Wade flinched, and Peter drew back. “Sorry, I just—” _Want to touch. How amazing, his scarring looks almost alive._

Wade stared at him, unmoving, lips parted slightly. “You. . . you can,” he said hoarsely.

Slowly, so as not to spook him, Peter slid the glove of his right hand off and touched his bare fingers lightly to Wade’s cheek. His thumb ran along the line of his chin and jaw, then up to his cheekbone.

 _Oh,_ he thought, retreating, _I should—I should take off my mask._

“You don’t have to,” Wade said sharply.

Peter shook his head just once, already pulling his own mask off, ruffling his hair to fluff it a little. Trying not to think about anything in particular, he faced Wade and gave a half-smile. The expression Wade returned was slack-jawed and bemused.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too,” Wade said softly, to himself. He lifted a hand and was so close to touching Peter that he could feel the heat before, suddenly, it dropped and he muttered, “No, I can’t.”

“Yes,” Peter said out loud and in his mind. _You can_. He grabbed Wade’s hand and brought it to his own cheek to nestle into.

Maybe it was the soulmates thing, or maybe it was just chemicals in his brain, but _oh, hell_ , that was nice. Peter cradled Wade’s hand, his eyes slipping shut. He had never felt like this before with anyone other than his aunt and uncle, his family. He felt so _safe_.

“Baby,” Wade whispered serenely. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Peter looked to him with a soft smile and was happy to see Wade with his brow crinkled and lip trembling ever so slightly.

 _Does everyone feel like this?_ Peter thought, thinking he already knew the answer if his aunt and uncle were anything to go by. _I want to know everything_.

“Can I—?” Wade didn’t even need to finish asking the question.

_Please._

Surging forward, Wade cupped his jaw more tightly and kissed him. The world felt like it was falling into place and any walls Peter had built around himself, any locks he had thrown away the keys for, were ripped apart. He was being seen. Wade saw him.

Though he could not see Wade so thoroughly, he still felt as though bridges were becoming stronger and chains were becoming looser, and a rush of _babyIhavewaitedsolong_ came tumbling into Peter’s mind.

He couldn’t see but for Wade’s bright eyes. He couldn’t hear but for Wade’s broken sobs. He didn’t know if they were even still kissing, but he was holding the man to him as close as possible. While he could not hear Wade’s voice in his head, he could _feel_ an array of emotions that were not his own. Those were Wade’s emotions, he knew instinctively.

Reluctant, Peter pulled back, holding Wade at arm’s length. As soon as they were no longer touching skin to skin, that secondary rain of emotions ceased.

“What?” Wade whispered the question.

Peter touched him again, palm to cheek, and he felt confusion _—where?_ Then relief, as if sinking back into place _—home._

“I feel your thoughts,” Peter said dazedly.

“When you touch me,” Wade finished.

_I can sense you._

In a low voice, Wade sang, “Birds flying high—”

 _You know how I feel._ “Wade—” Peter’s voice was smothered by another kiss. Hands curled around his head, tangled in his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little plot bunny I thought up a couple of days ago. I think it's canon that Wade's mind can't be read? Might be wrong. Whatever; creative license. It is _possible_ I may add a followup chapter but it's unlikely. I couldn't decide how to end it so there you go. I need to work on my other wip anyway.


End file.
